Blackberry Jam (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Eleven

   They entered the kitchen and navigated their way around several different cats, shooing them away as they all mewled for attention. Even after a year and a half in the house, Harry still didn't quite trust most of them not to scratch him, and ideally kept them as far away as possible.

That was, all except one of the new kittens called Treacle. Harry and Draco had got to name one of the latest litter each, and Harry had picked the smallest, most delicate looking one and named him after his favourite pudding: treacle tart. Draco had picked a crafty looking one and called her Shelley after one of his favourite scary book writers; she was a grey tabby with a long body and a demanding meow, whereas Treacle was golden and liked to pounce on things rather ineffectively.

Harry picked up his kitten and cradled him to his chest as he put the kettle on to boil. Draco tutted. "That's not very hygienic," he scolded, but Harry just poked out his tongue and rubbed the little creature's head.

"Like this whole place isn't covered with cat hair," he commented cheekily.

"I heard that," a voice rumbled from the living room, and Harry's ears went pink with shame.

"Sorry Mrs Figg," he said hastily as she came and joined them in the kitchen, but thankfully she didn't look angry, just the usual wince as she used her new cane to walk over and see to the breakfast.

The cane had never been mentioned, it had just suddenly appeared one day, like a third leg. Mrs Figg had been having more and more trouble walking with her dodgy hip, but she never liked to make a fuss. So when the cane materialised one day, and she was walking most places again, that was just that. Harry and Draco both knew better than to ever bring it up; they just accepted it now as part of daily life.

"I was only joking," Harry said in an attempt to soothe things over, but she just waved her hand dismissively as Snowy the bright white cat wound her way between her legs.

"No you weren't but it's fine – you can help be do some cleaning today and get rid of it all."

She grinned wickedly as both boys groaned, but Harry remembered not to be ungrateful after a moment's irritation at his lost adventure time. They were here as her guests after all, no one had made her take in two teenage evacuees. She probably would have been much better off with one or two little ones who ate less and kept grousing to a minimum.

"Okay," he said as graciously as he could, but Mrs Figg chuckled at him.

"Don't worry," she said jovially. "I was baking scones yesterday, a whole tray full. Perfect for bribing little boys into doing chores."

"I'm not little," Draco said indignantly, but he was drowned out by Harry's triumphant cry of "Scones!"

"That's right," Mrs Figg said as the kettle came to a boil and she fished out some milk and cereal. "I did them in secret whilst you two were running around kicking a ball."

Draco still looked guilty whenever anyone acknowledged he had played any football, but Harry loved that he could now coax him into a game from time to time. But that wasn't his concern right at that moment.

"But do we have any jam left?" he asked in alarm. There was no point in having scones if there was no jam. Draco ran to the cupboard and opened it to search.

"One jar," he said triumphantly, removing it to show them.

Mrs Figg tutted. "As if I'd make scones without there being jam," she said scornfully. "Honestly. Now sit and eat your breakfast, so we can get a crack on with the cleaning."

Mrs Figg didn't believe in boy chores and girl chores. Harry's mum was much the same, but Draco was a little shocked at first when he was expected to pick up a duster. Now though, they were both used to it, and understood the quicker jobs got done, the quicker they could go back to playing.

Harry was halfway through polishing the living room table an hour or so later, when a thought popped into his head. So he voiced it, as that's what he tended to do with sudden thoughts. "Perhaps we should save the jam," he said, and Draco and Mrs Figg turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" Mrs Figg asked.

Harry twitched the cloth damp with polish in his hand. "For a special occasion?" he explained. "Seeing as there's only one jar left, it'll be sad to see it all gone."

"Life is for living, not for saving up," Draco said firmly, and Harry huffed.

"You got that from a book," he challenged.

"So?" Draco replied. "It's true."

Mrs Figg sighed and hobbled over to pat Harry's back gently. "I think I must agree with young Mr Malfoy on this," she said sagely. "Who knows what may happen tomorrow? You must enjoy today as much as you can. Besides, if we save the jam, we waste the scones, don't we?"

Harry thought about what she was saying. "That's true," he admitted. It wasn't that he didn't want jam and scones, he very much did. However he felt guilty for eating it all up, as then they wouldn't have any more until next summer.

"Plus," said Draco. "It's practically Christmas, you're supposed to have nice things at Christmas."

"Also true," said Mrs Figg, raising her eyebrows to see if Harry agreed. He supposed he did, and the jam had to be eaten at some point.

"Okay," he said with a smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be a Scrooge."

Mrs Figg ruffle his hair. "You were just being thrifty," sheamended. "Nothing wrong with that in times like these."